Folds of a Black Coat
by artemis-nz
Summary: AU: A very different take on how Shuichi and Yuki met. It all began one night with a party and some suspicious tasting punch... Yuki/Shuichi. DISCONTINUED.
1. Black Coat

**Just an idea I had if Yuki and Shuichi did not meet in the same way as in the anime/manga. Right now I'm planning on expanding on this and making it several chapters long; however as of yet I've got no ideas, so for now it may just be a one-shot.**

Yuki Eiri hated headaches. He also, coincidentally, hated parties. The completely fucked-up thing was, he was at a party and he had a headache. Coupled with the too-loud music and completely crappy lyrics to go with the beat, Yuki was not in a good mood. There were, perhaps, some – oh, all right then – _many_, who would argue that Yuki was never in a good mood anyway, but then, Yuki paid no attention to them anyway – he never had, so why start now?

_Your fault_, sneered his drunken mind. _**You** had the beer, and the shots after that, and then more beer_-

"Shut the fuck up", growled Yuki. He was in no mood mood whatsoever to have an argument, least of all with himself.

"But I didn't say anything!" protested someone next to him.

Oh. Shit. When had **he** gotten there?

"Just when in the hell did you get here?"

Squinting, Yuki could make out, from his slightly hazy vision, a lower lip trembling.

"You... you're... sho... so mean!"

Yuki was rather taken aback. After all, the young man with the shock of pink -_pink!_- hair next to him had taken about 10 seconds to come back with a coherent reply, and when he finally did, it was to say that Yuki was **mean?**

"Yeah. So? You're drunk."

The pink-haired one gave a high-pitched giggle.

"And an idiot", Yuki quickly amended. Anyone who giggled like that must be an idiot, he mused.

"Mmmmm... so pretty."

"_What?_"

"That". And the boy – or rather young man – gestured clumsily out over the balcony. "Its so pretty... when... when the lights... when its all lit up like that."

Yuki was relieved – for a second, he thought the kid meant... but no matter.

"Whatever. Go back to the party, kid, you're bugging me."

And he was. The kid might be a happy drunk, but Yuki was likely to be in a better mood when he was sober. And that really said a lot.

The 'kid' pouted.

"I'm n-no... not a kid! I'm... uh..."

Yuki waited, tapping a finger impatiently against the metal bar he leaned on.

"Nineteen!" brought out the kid – fine, teen – triumphantly. "And", he continued, with an air about him of Santa bringing out the toy from the bottom of the sack, "my name's Shuichi!"

"Mmmhmm, that's nice. Look, don't you have someone else to annoy?"

"Um... I forgot. Nope, don't think so. All my f...fr... my mates all left. I think."

Yuki groaned – this guy was hopeless.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are you sure you don't-"

But whatever Shuichi was going to be sure of, Yuki never found out, as he was -quite rudely, he thought – interrupted by the sounds of gagging, and then muffled splatters as Shuichi leaned over and threw up over the balcony.

"Oohhhh", he moaned, pitifully. "Hurts... my head..."

Yuki didn't have any sympathy.

"Shouldn't have drunken so damn much then", he said tartly, ignoring the fact that his own head was pounding at that exact moment.

"Mmmm... so pretty... night, Mr."

Shuichi leaned his head on the cool metal in front of him and sighed.

Silence, blissful silence (if you ignored the music still playing in the background, of course...)

"Oi! You! You sh...stole my wallet. Give it back right now, ya here!"

Yuki groaned – what now?

"You took all my money, and I was gonna go buy another one and you took all my money..."

Yuki would have ordinarily pointed out that the loud-mouthed moron who had stumbled onto the balcony behind him had repeated himself, and was about to say just that, if it weren't for the same moron who had gone over and was shaking Shuichi about like a rag doll.

"Hey! Give it back right now or I'll... you... give back my money!"

Unable to think of a decent threat, the man repeated his demand, and Shuichi blinked up at him dazedly.

"Huh? But I haven't got your- ooof!"

A fist slammed into his chest, and all the air left his mouth in a rush. Shuichi doubled over, gasping. Beside him, Yuki was very pissed off.

"Hey! Damn moron, just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Okay, so Yuki didn't care much for the little idiot on the floor much either, but that was no reason to just go hit someone, was it?

_Nope_, said his brain, gleefully. _So hit him back._

Yuki kept his reasoning, though – he could hold his own in a fight, but not while he was half-drunk, and certainly not against someone more than twice his size.

"Uh..."

The male was stunned – did someone just talk **back** to him?

"Hey! You just talked..."

His voice trailed off, as he realised he was talking to an empty space.

Meanwhile, Shuichi gaped in shock as he was dragged by an annoyed blonde out a side door and bundled into a taxi.

"Where... why did you... uh... where'ya taking me?"

"Shut up."

Yuki spoke rapidly to the driver, shoving some money inti his hand, and the driver grinned at his favourite phrase.

"Keep the change."

That was all Shuichi understood, as he decided that he didn't really care where this sort-of stranger was taking him, as long as it was somewhere relatively quiet.

"Umm...", he murmured, burrowing his face into the warmth of Yuki's coat.

Yuki watched his eyes close, glad of the quiet. The brat talked too much, that was evident. And he had drunken **way** too much. Yuki couldn't see any way out of it other than to let him sleep over the night. Dump him on the couch, then kick him out in the morning, he decided.

From within the folds of Yuki's immense black coat, Shuichi gave a snore.


	2. Morning after

The sun was steaming in his window and the birds were singing – it may have been a perfect beginning to the day for some people, but certainly not so for a certain writer, who jerked the covers over his head with a groan – the sun hurt his eyes, and the birds, besides bugging him with their idiotic insistence to make unnecessary noise, were aggravating the already painful headache.

Slowly, thoughts and hazy memories came crowding into Yuki's mind, making further sleep completely impossible. The blonde peered blearily at the bedside clock, snorting at the red figures there. 9:43, danced the numbers, mockingly. 9:43? What baka would be up at that kind of ungodly hour?

Moments later he wished he had never thought of it, even to himself, as a harsh ringing tone invaded his ears. Mumbling curses, Yuki just lay still and hoped it would go away. His sigh of relief was audible when it did so, but an even louder curse came from him a minute later when the ringing began again. And. Just. Didn't. Stop. _Ringing! _Yuki growled, pushing aside the covers and stumbling into the lounge. Eyes widened at the sight that greeted him – crap. Oh, _now_ he remembered all right. But Yuki had more urgent matters at hand. For one, the damn ringing.

He eventually found the cellphone tossed carelessly on the floor near the pink-haired guy's... _what was his name again? Shuichi?_... feet. Yuki paused then, wondering whether to actually answer or not. After all, it wasn't exactly his phone. The ringing, when it still continued, was making his right eye twitch, so he decided on answering anyway.

"Moshi moshi", he snapped.

"What the- you're not Shuichi! Who _is_ this?"

"A blonde baka who was stupid enough to take Shuichi home after he near passed out from intoxication", said Yuki, annoyance evident in his voice. "And who is this?"

"Hiro", said the voice. A short pause. "Um, I guess I better pick him up... I gather he's still there?"

"Yes he is! And drooling over my couch as we speak. Here's my address."

Yuki rattled off the street name and number, hanging up before Hiro could say anything more. On the couch, Shuichi muttered and rolled over, presenting a face along with a shock of ruffled pink hair towards Yuki. The blonde sighed and strode to the bathroom, his headache only worsening with the movement. He stopped in the doorway, watching Shuichi for a moment.

"This is all _your_ fault", he said bitterly. The bathroom door slammed.

* * *

The doorbell rang. Luckily for whoever was behind it, Yuki's headache had somewhat lessened. The male who greeted Yuki with a bow and confident smile badly needed, thought Yuki, a good haircut – the reddish-brown mass trailed well down his back. 

"You're Hiro?"

"Yes, I-"

"Good", interrupted Yuki. Without further comment he led Hiro to the lounge, where Shuichi bounced around on the couch. When he saw Hiro he leapt up and, without any hesitation, proceeded to glomp him noisily.

"Hiro! Hiro Hiro Hiro Hiro! I got lost last night at the party and then someone fed me lots and lots of fruit punch and it tasted kinda funny but I liked it anyway and then I got sick so Yuki took me here and I just woke up and I'm real hungry!"

Yuki wondered idly just how one could possibly fit all those words into a sentence without pausing for breath. Hiro, however, didn't seem to be too surprised or even overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of the greeting, so Yuki took it for normal behavior. At length, Hiro turned to Yuki.

"Thank you for looking after him", he said. "I'm sorry, I didn't get you're name on the phone?"

"Eiri, Yuki", the blonde muttered, wondering if Hiro would pick up on the name.

"As in the writer? Romance novels, right?"

Damn.

"Yeah, right. Listen, if you wouldn't mind, I've got a lot of work to do, and I was just starting to be rid of the headache, so..."

He gestured to the still babbling Shuichi, and Hiro took the hint.

"Uh, yeah, so I was just saying, Shuichi, its time to go."

Shuichi nodded and grinned at Yuki.

"Thanks for letting me stay the night – I'm sure I would've had a good time if I wasn't really really tired and your house is real nice too and I might see you again sometime – hey, you're black coat's really soft too did you know that? So see ya!"

His voice got smaller and smaller as Hiro, with firm hand, almost dragged Shuichi out the door. Yuki shut it with more force than was strictly necessary behind them, but he could still hear their voices.

"Are you sure you're alright, Shuichi? That Yuki guy seemed really grumpy..."

Finally, _finally_ it was quiet, and Yuki's cue for a coffee. If he could be bothered making it. Ah, fuck it, a beer instead, he thought. That was how a _proper_ morning started – _not_ with sun streaming in and birds singing and crap like that, in spite of the shit he wrote for a living. Real life didn't play out that way.

The doorbell rang again just as Yuki was lighting up a much-needed cigarette, and his patience was now wearing very thin.

"_What?_"

The smaller male at the doorway rose one perfectly groomed eyebrow beneath a black bowler hat.

"Nice to see you, too, Eiri-san", said Tohma smoothly.


	3. In Need of Inspiration

**Sorry, everyone, but this will be the last chapter of this fic for a long time – I was originally going to say that I would just have it discontinued, but that;s just too final and I couldn't do it. So, I'm just thinking of this as a hiatus – hopefully just until I can get some more inspiration on this.**

Yuki sat on the couch, determinedly not looking at Tohma. Or rather, determinedly not answering his questioning gaze. Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, Tohma decided to attempt to break the tension.

"You know, smoking is very bad for you, Eiri-san."

Okay, so perhaps not breaking the tension.

"Tohma, just get to the point. Why are you here."

Tohma was unperturbed, used to to Yuki's rudeness. His face showed nothing but calm.

"Must I have an excuse to visit my brother-in-law?"

Yuki glared.

"Yes, Tohma, you do. I know how your mind works. Just spit it out."

Tohma kept his smile fixed in place.

"Eiri-san... you know I care for you very deeply..."

"Damn it, Tohma! Brother-in-law you might be but that doesn't give you an excuse to run my life for me! I'll talk to whoever I want, and I think I'm old enough to decide for myself who I'll start a relationship with!"

Tohma's eyes sharpened.

"So there is something going on."

"I didn't say that! You're twisting my words, Tohma, and you know it!"

Tohma decided on his usual direct approach.

"Who was the young man I saw exit the apartment, Yuki?"

"Nobody. A baka who drank too much and was sobering up at my place."

"That's all?"

Yuki would very much have liked to hit his brother-in-law in the face right then, but restrained himself – just. He did, after all, owe him something after... well, after everything.

"Yes, Tohma, that's all. Now, do you mind? I have work, and so do you. Get out."

Tohma wisely did so – of course, he reminded himself, it was not a retreat... merely a tactical decision.

"Eiri-san, just be careful. I do care, despite what you think. And so do other people. Don't cut us off."

Yuki disdained to reply, slamming the door in Tohma's face. He stood staring – or rather glaring – at the door for a long time, before swearing and lighting up another cigarette.

* * *

Two hours and three cigarettes later, the computer screen flashed before Yuki's eyes. Blank. It was completely blank; not because Yuki had written nothing, but because Yuki had written two pages, sworn explosively for exactly one minute, then deleted every word in sight. Crap. That's what it all was. Crap. 

"All crap", he muttered, angry at himself. "A romance novelist that doesn't believe a word he writes. How ironic."

_Bet -he- would have a laugh._

Now furious with himself for even thinking along those lines, Yuki abandoned the office and jabbed on the television, hoping for a distraction.

He got one.

"And so", said the too-chirpy reporter on screen, "Bad Luck has officially decided on dates for the tours, which can be found in this week's-"

But Yuki was no longer listening to the reporter, but staring at the screen in both amazement and a certain kind of horror. For there, right in front of him and looking him, it seemed, straight in the eye, was a very familiar pink-haired male...

"Fuck."

That was the only word that could possibly describe, thought Yuki, what he was feeling right now. Nothing else in his extensive vocabulary came even close.

"... Shuichi Shindou, lead singer of Bad Luck, and now in the top music chart..."

Oh Gods, this was just too fucked-up. Out of all the people in the entire world, he just_ had_ to pick up the one drunken singer of Bad Luck, who just _happened_ to be the most idiotic, hyperactive, immature, completely moronic person Yuki had ever met...

"Fuuuuuuuuck!"

So why in the hell could Yuki not stop thinking about him!

* * *

"And I'm sure he's real nice, if you look pretty deep down, Hiro!" 

Hiro threw up his hands in mock-despair.

"I don't get it, Shu. You met this guy for one night – not even that, because you were asleep for most of it – and now you're completely obsessed with him."

"I'm not!" pouted Shuichi, indignantly.

There was a moment's silence.

"... But did you see the TV the other day? That was him being interviewed, I'm sure of it! And you said his name was Yuki Eiri, and that's the guy! Can you believe I actually met someone famous? That's so cool!"

"Uh, Shu? _You're_ famous now. So what's the big deal? Out whole band's famous – we've been on the news and we've done interviews – just wait 'til the tour!"

"Yeah, I know, but did you see-"

"Shuichi! Calm down, and think for a minute. Lyrics. Have you come up with any yet?"

Shuichi looked slightly panicked.

"Um... I'm working on them?"

Hiro shook his head, sighing. Yeah, Shuichi was a great singer, and quite possibly a great song-writer too, but...

"We need lyrics, Shuichi. Original one's, and fast. If we're going to do the songs at the tour , we'll need the lyrics and new songs ready."

Shuichi stood up, face set in determination.

"Don't worry, Hiro – you will have your lyrics. I'll make up a song so cool that even **Sakuma Ryuichi** will sit up and listen!"

Hiro raised one eyebrow.

"Tough call, Shu. Listen, I have to go back, but just keep working on it, alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Hiro, and I swear I'll finish it on time."

Hiro nodded and let himself out, wondering if this was one promise that Shuichi might have trouble keeping.

Meanwhile, Shuichi looked despairingly down at his piece of paper, marked all over with scribbles, doodles, and crossed out words.

"I need some inspiration", he groaned.

Briefly, an image of a face set in a scowl appeared in his head, but Shuichi tried not to think about that, and instead got out some strawberry pockey. Returning to his chair, he ate thoughtfully, trying without success to think of anything, -_anything!_- to inspire him with some lyrics.


End file.
